It was around five in the morning when Rosette woke up; it was time for her daily morning runs in the mansion.

Rosette was so frail and fragile when she first transmigrated into her body, barely having any energy to walk from one place to another without stopping for rest. 

Because she wasn’t eating enough, she was anaemic for a growing child. She didn’t exercise enough because she was locked in her studies, it was only natural for her to grow weak. Since it wasn’t common knowledge diet and exercise affects health, no one paid much attention to such matters. 

But this was time to change.

When Rosette first went out for a run around the mansion, she sweated like a pig and didn’t achieve much distance before her legs collapsed. Paul surrounded her with guards thinking she was an intruder, only to find her unsightly leaning against a stone statue in the garden with a flushed face. 

Yes. That was embarrassing. 

She got escorted back to the mansion, where head maid Theresa thoroughly reprimanded her actions about how girls shouldn’t run around in their nightwear because ‘that is only for their husbands to see’. 

She hadn’t thought that. She went out with her nightwear, a long white cotton dress, because it allowed more movement compared to the heavy gowns with frills and laces. 

She should’ve put more thought into it, remembering how she’d read from one of the novels that even ‘ankle-flashing’ is considered indecent. The male character in that book blushed dramatically upon seeing the female lead’s ankles, and she remember laughing about it.

What an oversight on my part…

She had specifically requested maids tailor her long cotton trousers to go out for exercise in cold early mornings like these. Obviously they declined, saying things like ‘My lady! You can’t possibly go out in such degrading commoner clothes!’

It required much persuading before they finally agreed, eventually having to resort to ‘FINE I’LL JUST RUN IN MY NIGHT GOWN THEN’.

Noble etiquettes are so annoying.

She glanced at the sleeping figure of the boy on the other edge of the bed, and touched her puffy under-eyes which swollen from crying.

Rosette had always been easy to cry in her previous life, rather- she was the first to fail in all the “try not to cry challenge” on YouTube videos. She’d cry reading novels, cry watching movies, cry seeing dog photos- you get my point.

She had suspected for the boy to have an ugly and dark history, but hearing it from the person did hit differently from just reading it on a game panel. It struck to her that this boy sitting in front of her went through such horrible things, and was still smiling happily.

How can you smile that way?

How much sadness are you holding in?

How much grudge must you have against the world?

I cannot help you with your past, but I can help you with your future.

“Because now you’re my brother.” She whispered underneath her breath.

Patting Issac’s head slowly, she stared at his sleeping face.

“Pfft. Yeah, your face is going to be a dangerous weapon.”

Imagine all the girls who’ll chase you- oh god I’m already getting hypertension from thinking.

Yeah, better stay away from getting too close to you. It will bring nothing but drama.

Gently pulling the quilt blanket over his chest, she decided to leave the bed for her run. Maybe this time, she’ll be able to complete 3 laps around the mansion.

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Weird. She’s definitely weird.

Issac, an 8 year old child, had troubles sleeping when placed in a new strange environment. He had his eyes closed thinking of matters he’s seen today while sticking near Rosette.

Naturally, he was standing outside her room when she was screaming her heads off complaining about the Duke. He listened in, but couldn’t understand what she was discontented about. Issac just assumed it was one of the foreign languages he had yet to learn.

Mature for a seven-years-old, they said, yet she was just a child in his eyes. She laughed and cried  freely as any child would. It was easy to manipulate her feelings. But…

‘Last night’

The words Rosette said repeated in his mind. 

He felt unsettled.

How dare she say those words lightly as if she knew everything that was going on?

How would she understand what suffering he went through when she's never experienced a loved one die in her hands?

The bed shifted beside him and Issac tightly shut his eyes pretending to sleep.

Crossing the several pillows Rosette lined up between her and Issac in the middle of the bed, Issac felt the bed dip beside him due to a person’s weight.

‘What’s the point of putting all those pillows when you’re just going to cross them anyway?!’

Then out of nowhere, she started whispering to herself.

“Because you’re my brother.”

A small hand patted his head, its warmth permeated from the touch. She went silent for a while.

Issac felt her stare burning a hole in his face.

“Pfft”

‘Now you’re laughing at my face?’

“Yeah your face is going to be a dangerous weapon.”

Issac felt his blanket shift, then it covered his previously exposed chest. Rosette then got off the bed and left the room, silently closing the door with a small ‘clack’ when it latched.

Issac touched his head, his fingers fiddling with the hair where Rosette previously patted.

“Weird. Definitely weird.”

He sat up and looked around the large room. His eyes landed on the study desk and he vaguely remember her urgently keeping away and locking some papers.

His curiosity peaked.

‘What are you hiding?’

His feet carried him towards the desk and soon, he found himself fiddling the lock with a small hair pin.